


standing strong forever

by sugarcubeshiro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Canon Compliant, Crying, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Humor, M/M, Minor Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Song Lyrics, Unrequited Love, and the rest of the seasons, rating is for the fic as a whole, s8 doesn't exist, to start with... but then, yeah i rly am posting song fic in the year of our lord 2019 hm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcubeshiro/pseuds/sugarcubeshiro
Summary: Shiro had paused, thumb hovering over the screen on his phone as he turned back to Keith with a wide grin.“And this,”he’d said, bright joy sparkling in his eyes,“this is my favourite song of all time.”Keith knew in his heart of hearts, simply by the look on Shiro's face, that things would never be the same between them after that.Whatever they were, whoever Takashi Shirogane—the man, the myth, the legend; star pilot and muscled golden boy of the Garrison, the giant loser nerd that Keith knows what he looks like with twelve marshmallows stuffed in his mouth and drooling while trying to say‘chubby bunny’—had been to Keith before... neither of them would come out on the other side of what lay ahead of them the same person.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> all chapters will be connected as a story but the fic is set from pre-kerberos to post s7, so if you just want to read them as stand-alone 'missing moments' i think that works too!
> 
> you'll prob want to listen to [nothing's gonna stop us now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWPG1W2r_VE) before reading this if you haven't heard it before 😊 (& if you have heard it you could always still listen just so it can get stuck in your head for like two weeks, haha)

☆ ☆ ☆

In the eight months since Keith officially joined the Galaxy Garrison and got to know one Takashi Shirogane, he’s already witnessed the guy do an impressive amount of weird shit. The scene before Keith right now might just take the prize, though.

It had all started out innocently enough. 

Keith came by Shiro’s room like he usually does on Friday afternoons, to hang out and go over his homework for the next week. Meanwhile Shiro sat with a paper of his own that he keeps referring to as his _“super-secret project that he can’t talk about with a cadet of the lowest rank because it might compromise the integrity of the crucial information he’s been entrusted with”._ Keith gave him a long stare, like he always does, because he’s pretty sure that Shiro’s just writing a mandatory ten-page essay on some unknown debris discovered near Saturn back in 2052.

Once they finally agreed on being done with studying for the day, they had moved on to playing video games.

Which, again, Keith would consider a fairly common occurrence. There’s nothing new to him about spending an evening crammed into the left corner of the couch while Shiro is raised halfway out of his seat, yelling and smashing the buttons on his controller. Keith himself had kept his eyes squinted in concentration as he quietly glared at the screen—both of them equally out for blood as they tried to beat each other’s record and make it to the next level.

_“Oh my god,”_ Shiro had whispered and slumped down onto the couch once the eight-legged alien was finally defeated. Given how they’ve spent the last three afternoons Keith’s been over unsuccessfully trying to take it down, Keith had assumed that Shiro was in awe over finally reaching their goal. But then Shiro said, _“This game has_ Abba _on its soundtrack.”_

_“Abba...?”_ Keith said absent-mindedly while he kept looking at the scores on the screen (his own three points better than Shiro’s, _hah)_. _“What’s Abba?”_

That should have been an innocent question, in Keith’s own humble opinion. A simple request for clarification. And yet Shiro whipped his head to the side so fast that Keith got worried for his friend’s neck.

_“I thought you’ve said you’re gay, Keith,”_ Shiro said, sounding weirdly accusing. His eyes were wide, his thick black eyebrows lowered in a way that managed to make him look both utterly disappointed and like a kicked puppy all at once. Not only did Shiro seem deeply hurt and offended, but also personally _betrayed_. As if he couldn’t believe that Keith would come in here and sit right there on the couch in his small dorm room, on the day of them defeating the giant green space monster of _Mass Effect 16: Remastered_ , and dare to disrespect Shiro in this way.

_“Um,”_ Keith said, going from slightly confused to _very_ confused. _“I—am gay?”_

Shiro shot up from his seat to stand in front of Keith while Keith blinked up at him. Then Shiro took a deep breath to steel himself, before he started talking. What followed had been an equal parts stoic and enthusiastic exclamation that no baby gay that he had befriended could go on living their life _not_ knowing anything about iconic disco tracks and the likes from the 1980s and back.

_“They were a crucial part of gay culture,”_ Shiro added, with a certain amount of too-much passion that Keith would never find endearing coming from anyone else. _“I mean, c’mon. They might be old, but they still play a lot of those songs at bars!”_

_“I’m seventeen,”_ Keith reminded Shiro, even though reminding Shiro of that fact easily counts as one of his least favourite things to do. At least since Keith started to realize how much his eyes want to linger on Shiro; how he feels when they’re near each other. How Shiro himself has been a big part of Keith realizing that—yeah. He really _is_ gay, given how he looks at Shiro and something lodged deep in Keith’s chest _wants—_

_“It’s our history, Keith,”_ Shiro said solemnly, then pressed his palms together and rested his forefingers against his lips like silently asking a higher deity for mercy over Keith’s cluelessness. _“I don’t fault you for not knowing, but—these things are important.”_

_“I understand.”_ Keith nodded and did his best to look like he was seriously contemplating Shiro’s words. Then he pointed the controller still in his hand at Shiro. _“What you’re saying is that I need to go out drinking more.”_

_“What?”_ Shiro squinted his eyes. _“I said no such thing.”_

_“Riiight.”_ Keith gave him an exaggerated wink before he sank back against the couch and tossed the controller to the side again so he could put his hands behind his head. _“Ah, this is perfect. Now I’ll just blame it on you if Iverson catches me sneaking back to my room completely shit-faced one night.”_ He closed his eyes and pitched his voice ridiculously high, and then fluttered his lashes innocently. _“‘Oh, but Sir! Takashi told me I need to start seeing the world more! He even made fun of me for being uncultured, and you_ know _what a great influence he's always been on me. I just felt I had to—’”_

_“You little_ punk—”

Keith yelped when Shiro pounced on him, flopping down on top of Keith to lock his head in a neck-grip while rubbing his knuckles against Keith’s hair, like the goddamn man-baby that Keith had quickly learned that Shiro is. Keith made another noise in protest, and tried to tell himself that he shouldn't enjoy being stuck in the position as much as he did. He had a pretty hard time remembering _why_ he shouldn’t just let himself relax and accept his fate, though, when he had his cheek squished by one of Shiro’s large biceps.

_“Let go of me,”_ Keith had tried to growl. He gave a weak little shove at Shiro’s waist for good measure, but it was pathetically evident even to himself that his heart wasn’t in it. Still, though; it was nice to put his palms on Shiro’s toned stomach over the fabric of his soft worn Garrison t-shirt.

Thankfully Shiro seemed oblivious as ever to anything happening in Keith’s mind, and kept his grip tight around Keith. _“We all know that the only things I’ve ever taught you is no drinking until you’re thirty, no looking at other boys until you’ve at_ least _reached that age too, you go to bed at nine and always brush your teeth—”_

Keith let out a groan, and no matter how much he might have wanted to stay stuck in Shiro's hold, surrounded by the closeness of his skin, the smell of his cologne, the solidness of his body (and god, yep, gay—gay, gay, _gay—_ that was him, unquestionably so), Keith’s pride gained the upper hand on him. It wasn’t worth it to let Shiro continue keeping him there like Keith was stuck in a pillory.

He poked his fingers right below Shiro’s ribs, hitting his most ticklish spot, grinning when Shiro let out an indignant squeak and squirmed away. Keith did his best not to laugh at it all, instead falling back into the cushions of the couch again.

_“God,”_ he said, deadpan, _“you are_ hilarious, _grandpa.”_

Shiro slumped back too, sighing, but didn’t rise to the bait of Keith teasing him about his age. Instead he put his hands on his knees, looking very determined for a long moment before he finally stood up. _“Alright,”_ he said. _“That’s it.”_

_“What’s what?”_ Keith said, but instead of answering, Shiro went to put on music.

Keith watched over the back of the couch as Shiro stood with his shoulders to him and fiddled with the speakers on the nightstand next to his bed. Shiro kept rattling on about different genres and bringing up more names of various bands Keith had never heard of, the thought of whatever Abba had to offer apparently slipping away from Shiro to make room for everything else worth sharing. He began starting up songs only to skip to the next one not even ten seconds in, far too eager to share his ancient wisdom to actually sit through any of it.

Until, finally, Shiro had paused, thumb hovering over the screen on his phone as he turned back to Keith with a wide grin.

_“And this,”_ he’d said, bright joy sparkling in his eyes, _“this is my favourite song_ of all time.”

Keith knew in his heart of hearts, simply by the look on Shiro's face, that things would never be the same between them after that.

Whatever they were, whoever Takashi Shirogane—the man, the myth, the legend; star pilot and muscled golden boy of the Garrison, the giant loser nerd that Keith knows what he looks like with twelve marshmallows stuffed in his mouth and drooling while trying to say _‘chubby bunny’_ —had been to Keith before... neither of them would come out on the other side of what lay ahead of them the same person.

And now, standing next to the couch and taking in the sight of Shiro while the song he’d started up hits the chorus for a second time—Keith can only confirm that, yes.

He was absolutely correct.

No exaggeration whatsoever.

Shiro comes skidding across the floor on his socked feet, holding a hairbrush in his left hand as he slides to a stop right in front of Keith and holds it out for him.

“Sing it!” Shiro exclaims, even if Keith thinks that Shiro’s doing a perfectly good enough job at singing it all on his own when he keeps going, _“—and we can build this dream together, standing strong forever—”_

“I’ve—I still don’t know this song, Shiro,” Keith reminds him, needing to shout a little to be heard over the loud music. He’s pretty sure that if it was anyone but Shiro living in here, the people in the dorms next door would already be trying to get inside to strangle both of them.

“Alright then.” Shiro stops, abrupt but undeterred as he claps a hand to his wrist twice. Then he says, “From the top!” like he’s a goddamned ballet instructor or something and Keith is his young promising protégé who’s too lazy to embrace his true potential.

Shiro goes to pick up his phone, starting the song over again, and Keith tries, he _really_ tries, to hold back his smile. But there’s nothing to be done about it when Shiro turns back around and shimmies his way over to him, because Shiro’s so fucking ridiculous, and Keith loves him—he _loves_ him, this idiot best friend of his.

Eight months of being at this school and still not really knowing anyone else doesn’t matter all that much to Keith, not when he has Shiro to hang out with. Even though they don’t really see each other as often as Keith wishes that they would.

He hides his grin behind a hand, disguising it as a judgmental press of his palm to his mouth while he keeps watching as Shiro happily sings along on his own, all the way to the end. It’s complete with increasingly embarrassing choreography, and once the song hits the final note, it automatically starts back up again.

Keith groans and tips his head back when the cheesy intro starts to play. “Shiro. You put it on _repeat?”_

“Told ya.” Shiro wiggles his eyebrows and shimmies his shoulders in a way that no guy should manage to make attractive. 

And, maybe more importantly, no guy should _find_ attractive. 

Keith's hormonal little teenage brain doesn't seem to get that memo, though, since he still wants to pull Shiro close by his ugly orange t-shirt, then press his mouth to Shiro’s and kiss him senseless. More than he wants anything else in his life at this point, probably. 

“It’s my favourite song,” Shiro continues and gives Keith a contemplative look. “And I _know_ you gotta know at least the chorus by now. You’re a quick study, Keith.”

“Shiro…”

“C’mon, Keith,” Shiro whines and steps closer. He cups the back of Keith’s head to hold him in place and practically smushes the hairbrush-turned-microphone in Keith’s face, ignoring his sputtering. _“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon—”_

“Fine!” Keith wrenches the microph— _hairbrush_ out of Shiro’s hand and wriggles away before Shiro can give him another noogie or something. Then he sniffs haughtily and straightens up, like there’s any way to preserve his dignity going forward.

Shiro already has a victorious grin on his face when he twirls around to start up the song from the beginning before turning back to face Keith again. He gestures with one big sweeping movement at the floor between his bed and the couch, as if he’s introducing the main event in a crowded arena.

Keith shuffles a little awkwardly, rolling his eyes _just because,_ but he still starts to nod along to the beat to catch up with the words, and—

Damn it.

So maybe he has to admit that it _is_ a pretty catchy song. In a… really old, totally lame sort of way. Keith can appreciate it ironically, though. And because Shiro’s so cute when he’s happy. Shiro’s already gone back to humming along, so with one last resigned sigh, Keith joins in too.

_“—standing here beside you, want so much to give you…”_ Keith sings, tentatively letting himself relax a little more.

After all, this isn’t some weird challenge.

There are no ulterior motives to this. Shiro isn’t trying to make him do something that he can use against Keith, or make fun of him for. The times that Shiro laughs around Keith are always _with_ him, never at him, and even when Shiro does challenge him to something, Keith has never minded it. Because while others might love to poke and probe at Keith to rile him up, to get him angry so they can use it against him—Shiro never pushes him to prove that Keith can’t do something. Shiro doesn’t egg him on because he can’t wait to put Keith in his place and rub it in his face. Shiro only ever challenges him to make sure that Keith shows _himself_ that he _can_ accomplish something.

Even if it’s something so simple as letting go of his self-consciousness and being ridiculous on a Friday afternoon in Shiro’s dorm room, while singing along to cheesy old songs.

No one else has ever done something like that for him before. No one has ever wanted to just have _fun_ with Keith. Shiro’s the only person he can be himself around, fully, because Shiro is the nicest guy he’s ever met. And Keith—he loves, he loves, he _loves—_

Keith swallows around the sudden thick lump in his throat, and blinks too quickly a couple of times.

Despite how silly the situation itself is, everything feels a little too raw and too real when Keith finally manages to make himself look Shiro right in the eyes and continues to sing, _“—this love in my heart, that I'm feeling for you—”_

_“Let 'em say we're crazy!”_ Shiro shouts and Keith jumps from the force of it, quickly breaking out of any bittersweet awkwardness he’s managed to think himself into when Shiro points at Keith before dramatically throwing his head back.

Keith stares and blinks again, this time in surprise. All of it is so unexpected and theatrical that the sudden laugh _barks_ out of him, bubbling up so unrestrained Keith knows it’s the kind of laughter that can’t be stopped once it’s set free—the kind that ends with a stomach ache and wiping away wetness at the corners of his eyes, the kind they both so often get around each other. 

Shiro’s expression is still dead serious when he opens his eyes to look at Keith, which just makes Keith lose it even more. He barely manages to stop himself from doubling over howling with laughter at the sight of it when Shiro goes on to gyrate his hips in a rhythm horrifically out of beat. 

“ _Shiro_ , you—absolute—”

_“I don't care about thaaa-at—”_ Shiro does a spin and throws one arm out in front of Keith, palm up and wiggling his fingers, _“—put your hand in my hand, baby, don't ever look back—”_

Keith snorts around his giggling, a little teary-eyed from laughter, and lifts his eyebrows with a shake of his head. Still, grinning just as wide as Shiro, Keith allows him to take his hand so he can tug them over to the bed. Shiro pulls them both up to stand on it, Keith’s socked feet getting planted on the crimson cover just as the chorus comes back. This time, Keith doesn’t think twice about joining in, and both of them sing at the top of their lungs while they start jumping up and down.

_“—and we can build this dream together, standing strong forever, nothing’s gonna stop us, nothing’s gonna—”_

The doors to Shiro’s room sliding open is so unexpected that Keith yelps and trips backwards, almost wobbling off the bed in surprise when Adam pops up in the doorway. He just barely manages to catch himself and straightens up while Adam blinks at the sight in front of him. Shiro, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He simply grins wider while continuing his dancing as he hops down from the bed, even if Keith feels flustered enough to at least slow down his swaying after regaining his balance.

Shiro waltzes over to his boyfriend, holding up his fist as a microphone for him instead, and Keith feels whatever nice moment they were having together quickly slip away from him. Adam snorts and shakes his head fondly as he looks at Shiro, then wraps an arm around his waist. Even though he doesn't join in with the song, Adam still pulls Shiro closer so he can press a loving kiss to his cheek while dropping his bag to the floor, then grabs Shiro’s face in both hands and kisses his lips.

Keith gets down from the bed and tosses the hairbrush onto the mattress before he lowers the volume of the music, just in time to hear the end of Shiro’s happy, “Hey, babe!” and Adam mumbling something in reply. 

Shiro turns to face Keith, still smiling but with a question to the way he furrows his brows.

“I’m, uh—gonna head back to my room,” Keith says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“You sure?” Shiro frowns. “It’s Friday, Keith. You know what that means.”

“Ah, yeah.” Adam chuckles. “Cheat day.”

_“Cheat day,”_ Shiro puts a hand to his chest and repeats with so much feeling that he sounds close to tears, like he’s accepting the official award for _Guaranteed Best Pilot Ever, No One Can or Will Even Come Close For All of Eternity_ when he says, “We’re having both veggie tacos _and_ banana chips tonight.”

“You’re always welcome to join us,” Adam agrees, even if his smile isn’t nearly as natural or half as warm as Shiro’s always is when he looks at Keith.

“Nah, that’s okay.” Keith slides his hands into the pockets of his pants, watching Adam’s arm where it’s still wrapped around Shiro’s waist. One of Shiro’s own arms is slung around Adam’s shoulders to hold him close, and Keith tries to smile back. “Thanks, though.”

Even if he’s had enough time to think that maybe Adam doesn’t actively _hate_ him, Keith’s not an idiot. Just because Adam is being polite doesn’t mean he actually wants the grumpy kid he sees as Shiro’s pet-slash-pity project to join them for what would probably otherwise be a romantic date night. There’s a small part of Keith grumbling about staying out of spite, but the bigger part—the one that doesn’t want to be immature around Shiro, doesn’t ever want to do anything out of _spite_ around him—thankfully always wins nowadays. Well—mostly. Usually. Sometimes.

But Keith’s pretty sure that if Shiro just thought about it for two seconds instead of always automatically including Keith in everything, Shiro would prefer the romantic date night with his boyfriend, too. While Keith might personally be neutral about Adam at best, he does want Shiro to be happy more than he could ever want Shiro all to himself.

Even if he knows that he could make Shiro a lot happier than boring Adam ever could.

Whatever.

“Alright then,” Adam says, still smiling his perfectly polite smile. Keith barely refrains from rolling his eyes, because— _urgh._ He’s so annoyingly _proper._ “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah.” Keith gives them both a nod. “I’ll just, uh... see you guys later.”

Shiro reaches out to ruffle Keith’s hair as he passes them on the way out and Keith does roll his eyes then, swatting at his hand. He still goes a little red-faced when Shiro grins back before giving Keith a friendly wink.

God, Keith really does hate how Shiro is the kind of person who winks at people and genuinely thinks that could ever be a _friendly_ thing to do. Even when you’re someone who could have people fall in love with you without accidentally flirting with them.

“Bye, Keith!” Adam calls out behind him, voice just the right level of mildly friendly, like always, before the doors close, and Keith is alone on the other end outside Shiro’s room.

Keith scoffs, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor before he starts walking, but a smile still turns up the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t even bother to fight it as he starts humming the tune of the song he listened to with Shiro, continuing the whole way back to his dorm, a private smile and a fluttering feeling in his chest accompanying him as he thinks about Shiro’s beautiful, happy face grinning at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (please mind the updated tags—while this chapter is short, it focuses on grief over both past loss and shiro’s presumed death after the kerberos mission. there’s an anxiety attack and a very brief mention of wanting to harm yourself physically to cope with emotions.)

☆ ☆ ☆

Keith stares up at the dark night sky.

Earth is enveloped by a deep blue, the shade of it edging closer to black the more minutes that pass. No clouds are out tonight, making stars twinkle all around him as far as he can see out here in the desert.

Taking another deep drag of the cigarette he’s working on, Keith blows out smoke in the clear air in front of him. He leans his head back against the wooden railing where he’s sitting on the porch stairs of his father’s old shack, then squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to fight off the throbbing headache in his skull, to avoid thinking for a second about how his eyes are bloodshot from all the crying he’s been doing. Instead he focuses on the chilly breeze against his skin and the song playing loudly on repeat in his earphones, a familiar song going, _And if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other..._

Keith sniffs and lifts a hand, determinedly wiping away the wetness running down his cheeks despite knowing there’s no point trying to make the tears stop.

All he is now, all he feels, is a hollow kind of sadness. Like the space where his heart should be has been scooped out and replaced by a big, aching, empty hole.

“It used to be like this,” Keith whispers to himself as a silent cold tear escapes from his wet eyelashes and slides down the corner of his eye. He sniffs, and as if saying it out loud would make any of this easier to deal with, he hisses under his breath again, “It used to _be like this.”_

It’s true. It did use to be like this, and he’s lived through it before.

Keith puts out his cigarette by crushing the burning end against the wooden stairs, then thumps his head back against the railing again, another breath shuddering out of him.

Yeah, it _did_ use to be like this. Keith used to feel like this all the time.

But then Shiro came along.

_I’m so glad I found you,_ the song sings in Keith’s ears and his bottom lip starts wobbling again.

Maybe it used to be like this, but Shiro fucking showed up. Shiro came crashing into his life like a ray of sunshine through the broken window of an old dusty building, refusing to let his light be dimmed. Shiro made Keith want to search in his heart for feelings he’d shoved away into the deepest corner of his mind such a long time ago he’d almost forgotten they existed. Shiro came along and made Keith feel excited and happy again in a way he hadn’t felt in years. 

Despite how hard Keith first tried to fight him off—to take the hope Shiro offered and violently push it back before it _hurt_ him—Shiro made him want to believe that maybe there could still be something left for Keith to feel okay about in life, after all.

Because Shiro stuck around.

No matter what shit Keith pulled on him or whatever embarrassing meetings with Garrison higher-ups that Keith put them both through, Shiro never gave up. Shiro stuck around until Keith let himself believe that it was possible to hold onto his newfound feelings of joy and hope, like he could actually have them and _keep_ them. He’d finally felt like he was allowed to have something to dream about and be happy over again.

Shiro gave him a chance to fly, Shiro let him know that Keith had someone who believed in him, and Shiro also gave him someone to laugh with. Someone to confide in, someone to trust—for the first time in his life since he was a kid, Keith had a _friend._

Keith swallows and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.

_I’m not gonna lose you,_ the song sings in his ears and Keith tries to take a deep breath, reminding himself that this late into the night, the funeral ceremony should already be over.

A funeral.

What a fucking joke.

The most awful, horrible, disgusting joke imaginable.

_Whatever it takes, I’ll stay here with you,_ the song plays on and Keith fights back another whimper.

Even though he didn’t attend—probably wouldn’t have been welcome even if he’d wanted to—Keith still knows it’s going to be all over the news for days now, since the whole world wants to act as if they know anything about this. As if they have a right to _mourn._ As if _anyone_ should be mourning right now, when there haven’t been any bodies brought back and the disappearance of the Kerberos crew couldn’t be a more obvious lie when they chose to blame the reason for it on _that._

_Take you to the good times, see you through the bad times,_ the song sings and Keith sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as the memory of Shiro smiling brightly while clasping Keith’s shoulder flashes through his mind.

A broken noise leaves him, no escaping the rage and hurt and pain he’s feeling, all of it welling up and bubbling to the surface. There’s no way for him _not_ to think about Shiro, no way to fight off the longing he feels to have him next to him again. Keith wants so badly to hug him, hear Shiro’s heartbeat in his ear with his temple pressed close to Shiro’s chest, before turning his nose to inhale Shiro’s scent. He wants to listen to Shiro’s loud and contagious laugh, his teasing jokes and uplifting words, have something to look forward to again while waiting for Shiro to get back from his dream mission of going to Kerberos.

Shiro had been so fucking _excited_ over leaving, and Keith had been excited for his sake, too.

He was more than okay with missing Shiro for the months it would take, because Shiro deserves everything good in life and to experience everything he’s ever wanted. In the time Keith’s known him, Shiro’s always done so much for everyone else. He’s always wanted to listen, give advice, try to comfort people. Help in any way possible, whatever it was about or whoever it was that needed it. And people didn’t even have to know him for Shiro to steal all the attention—whenever he was in a room, he’s the one everyone looked at, no matter how many others were in there with him. Keith had thought it was ridiculous at first when Shiro was visiting his class, but. It didn’t take long for him to realize that Shiro really does deserve every bit of admiration and adoration he’s ever gotten, and then some.

Happy, funny, determined, brilliant, confident, skilled, and the nicest fucking guy Keith’s ever met.

That’s who Shiro was.

That’s who Shiro _is,_ and Keith misses him so much he doesn’t know where to _go._

He just wants to see him again, steal a fucking spaceship and go after Shiro and his crew himself if he has to, find Shiro wherever he is right now and bring him home safe. Get to look into his kind, dark eyes, see Shiro look back at him that way he’s always done, like Keith’s _worth_ something. And the thought of never, _ever_ again getting to—

With the volume of the music in his ears already at the loudest, at least Keith doesn’t have to hear his own sob when it leaves him. He buries his face in the crook of his arm, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them close while the too-upbeat song keeps playing. Clenching his teeth and working his jaw, he furiously presses his mouth against his bicep to muffle the sound when he screams out loud, too many feelings in his chest for him to know where to put them. The scream quickly ends on another ugly, desperate sob, his breath hulking out of him as he digs his fingertips into his knees.

He stays there, tucked in on himself with only the song and the stars to accompany him as he cries—then cries and cries and cries.

Keith does his best to breathe through his tears, gulping down air into his lungs and curling his hands into tight fists, trying to stop himself from punching the porch, the air, himself, _anything._ He wants to scream again, louder this time, get up and kick something—beat whatever closest hard surface until his knuckles are as bloody and bruised and the bones beneath his skin as broken and cracked as his insides feel.

Instead he stays put, and lets himself let go.

He lets his tears fall freely, lets all of his thoughts and memories of Shiro wash over him until he feels like he’s drowning, sobbing so hard he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stop. Every gasp for air comes short and panicked, the hurt in his heart making Keith hyperventilate, overwhelmed by the fear of knowing he’ll never be able to escape this feeling.

Keith presses his palms to his face and screams again at his knees until his voice breaks, his throat raw and hurting as he keeps crying. He cries until all he can do is sob and gasp even _more,_ because he _can’t fucking breathe—_ then stomps his foot against the ground before kicking hard at the railing with another whined growl of panic. He wants to wriggle out of his own skin, needs to leave his body and disappear, wants to be no one and feel nothing in a way he hasn’t experienced with such intensity since he was an eight-year-old kid mourning his father.

He has no idea know how long it takes before his breathing finally turns less ragged.

Shaky sharp breaths still leave him, but eventually the air passes somewhat easier into Keith’s lungs, once his body runs out of its will to fight. Exhausted again from the loneliness and grief and from carrying too much anger at himself for ever letting himself think that life could actually be _good,_ Keith’s heart goes back to being empty and spent, hollowed out with nothing more to give.

His breath keeps shuddering on each exhale long after the worst of the tremors through his body have passed, though, small hitched whimpers he can’t keep down escaping every now and then.

Sniffling, Keith finally makes himself turn his head to press his puffy cheek against his knee. He tilts his face just enough to peek up at the night sky from the safety of his arms and wipes at the gross remains of runny snot from his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. Salty tears still slide down the skin of his cheeks, but it’s a quiet kind of crying now as he stares at the darkness above him. He glares up at it, at all the things hidden behind it and the secrets space holds but there’s no way for Keith to unwrap from down here.

“I know you’re still out there,” Keith whispers, voice hitched from the hurt of his loss and something sharper like a growl at the back of his throat. He says it out loud, even though he still can’t hear himself over the music and he’s completely alone, says it to no one and everyone all at once—putting out a promise for the universe to take note of.

Digging the nails of his fingers into his knees again, Keith stares up at the stars and the endless black void of space where he knows, _knows,_ that Shiro is still alive somewhere.

Shiro’s favourite song hits the second verse again, and with his jaw still clenched, Keith squeezes his eyes shut. There shouldn’t be any water left in his body to spare by now, yet the tears won’t stop coming.

Out in the lonely desert where no one can hear him, Keith sings along under his breath, voice cracked but fiercely determined, _“Whatever it takes, is what I’m gonna do...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see for this fic!! the next chapter hopefully shouldn’t take anywhere near as long to post. thanks for sticking with me. ♥️

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! come join me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sugarcubeshiro) for lots of sheith loving if you want to <3


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